


How We Met Your Mother

by storiesfortravellers



Category: Bletchley Circle
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Inherit, Millie Loves Susan's Children, Misses Clause Challenge, Questions, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:52:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/pseuds/storiesfortravellers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Susan's daughter asks the other members of the circle about what they do when they get together, and what they did in the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How We Met Your Mother

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonster/gifts).



> A treat for Bonster.

“Mum’s not home yet,” Claire said as she opened the door. “But you can wait. Dad and Sam are out too, but I’ll put on some tea and Mum will be home soon.”

Millie, Lucy, and Jean smiled at her and came in. They had been having their “book club” meetings for years now, and Claire and Sam, now teenagers, were used to them being around. There was a time when Millie had resented Susan’s choice to put motherhood first, but now that she knew Susan’s children, she couldn’t help but adore them.

They sat and talked, and soon Claire brought in tea and biscuits and sat with them as they ate and made polite conversation, careful to mention nothing about their latest case in front of Claire. 

“Will you tell me a story about my mom from before I was born?” Claire asked.

“That sounds like the perfect task for Lucy,” Millie said with a smile. 

Lucy smiled shyly and put her teacup down. “All right. What would you like to know?”

“Something about during the war,” Claire said, “From when you became friends.”

“Tell her about the cafeteria,” Jean suggested. A nice, innocuous story.

Millie laughed at the memory, and soon Lucy was telling, in the most vivid detail, a story of how two women in the cafeteria had an altercation that ended up with a jar of mustard flying straight across the room, sending the mustard flying out of the jar and smearing Susan with a line of mustard from head to toe. 

“And as you can imagine,” Lucy said, “Your mother was quite upset. But then Millie said, ‘Darling, you look exquisite in yellow,’ and we all just started laughing, your mother too.” 

Claire giggled, trying to imagine her mother as a young woman, covered in mustard and laughing with her closest friends.

Then Claire asked, “And did you start solving crimes before or after the war?”

They all paused.

“What are you talking about, dear?” Jean said.

“I’ll be right back,” Claire said and ran to her room. She quickly came back with a pile of notes.

She held up a graph to Millie and said, “You’re maps and graphs, aren’t you?”

“Did your mother tell you—something?” Lucy asked.

“She won’t tell me anything,” Claire said with an eyeroll. “But look at this graph I made. Your book club meets once a month, but when there’s a killer in the news, you meet almost every day. The correlation couldn’t be clearer.” 

The three women exchanged looks. “Darling,” Millie said, “I’m afraid we don’t deserve the compliment. All we do is gossip.” 

Claire looked unfazed. “And my mother has a certain look she gets when she’s working out a puzzle or pattern. Eyes a certain way, jaw a certain way, a certain way of tapping the table. It’s obvious.”

“She might be thinking of some puzzle, but nothing so exotic as what you’re thinking,” Jean said firmly.

Claire brought up another piece of paper. “I know for a fact that when my mother says ‘the tailor’ when she’s talking to you on the phone in front of me and Sam, she’s talking in code. She does all her own sewing. What is ‘the tailor’ code for?”

Lucy was looking very nervous, so Millie put a calming hand on her knee. Jean just said, “Your imagination is delightful, Claire, but I’m afraid you’re quite mistaken.”

Claire’s face scrunched up, equal parts frustration and determination, and in that moment, she looked so much like Susan that Millie could barely stop herself from laughing.

Claire, of course, did not give up. “I’ve seen my mother run into the police captain on the street. The way he nods at her, it’s different than the way he nods at other ladies. It’s like the way he nods at his colleagues.”

“What exactly do you think we are?” Jean asked her, “A group of women who go around hunting down criminals? That sounds ridiculous.”

“The way I’ve worked it out,” Claire said, “The hunting’s just on the side. The real point’s the puzzle. I think you all solve mysteries together.”

“The only mysteries we solve are in the novels of Nicholas Blake and Dorothy Sayers,” Jean assured her.

Claire leaned back into her chair, and Millie thought she looked at once like an angry child and a queen about to pronounce sentence.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Claire said, “I’ve already worked it out that you solve mysteries that the police can’t. I’m asking because there’s one piece of the puzzle that I haven’t been able to completely figure out.”

“What do you mean?” Lucy asked.

Claire answered, “It doesn’t make sense why my mother would need her wartime friends to solve crimes. Why not ask her new friends, who live closer? It seems to me that she trusts you all to work together to solve puzzles and to not tell anyone what you’re doing. But my mother doesn’t trust people without reason. So there must have been some secret you’ve all kept together. Probably something from the war.”

The three women just stared at her.

Claire continued, “My mother didn’t do clerical work during the war, did she? Did any of you?”

There was a long silence, until Millie said, “If you’re not going to believe what we tell you… then I think you need to ask these questions of your mother.”

Claire frowned. “She wouldn’t like me prying into her business. And especially not into murders and things like that.”

“Then your mother probably knows best,” Jean said pointedly.

Claire sighed. She could see that she was not going to get any answers. She collected her papers and started to leave the room, asking, before she went, “Please don’t tell my mother I asked about this. She just… wouldn’t understand.”

Millie felt a pang of sympathy then: Claire and Susan, both afraid to reveal their passion and their intelligence – afraid to reveal their greatness – to their own family, even to each other.

Claire went to her own room then, and Susan arrived soon enough with a brilliant new idea about their current case. They talked it over for hours, planning their next move, until it was time to leave.

Millie asked to say good night to Claire before leaving. She knocked on the door and came in and sat next to Claire, who was reading a book in her bed.

“Did you tell my mom what I said?” Claire asked nervously.

“No,” Millie said with a warm smile. “We kept your secret. We’re good at that.”

“I noticed,” Claire grumbled.

Millie groaned in empathy, and put her arm around Claire’s shoulder. “Look, I know you’re too sharp to believe lies. But there are things you just can’t know.”

Claire looked exactly like Susan did when she was told to let something go.

“But,” Millie continued, “I can tell you this. Your mom is a hero. She’s helped a lot of people. She is brave and unstoppable and she pushes me and Lucy and Jean to be our very best. She’s the most amazing person I’ve ever known.”

Claire smiled, grateful for the closest she would get to an admission.

“And she’s unreasonably, perhaps excessively smart,” Millie added. “And a bit stubborn to boot.”

“More than a bit,” Claire said with a giggle.

“Yes, she reminds me of someone I know,” Millie answered with a raised eyebrow. 

“I can work out who you’re talking about,” Claire said, obviously pleased with the comparison. 

“Of course you can,” Millie said with a grin. “I had no doubt.”


End file.
